Letters To My Unknown
by PolytheneSkin
Summary: A forgotten letter, sent out among the stars, lands on a world with no heart.  Zemyx
1. To My Unknown Friend

So I've started this really bad habit of going to bed at one in the morning. Because I have started doing this on such a regular basis, I now physically _can't_ get to sleep until one. This story is what I do when I'm sitting at the computer waiting for myself to become tired enough to roll into bed. Hopefully it comes off as decent and not just sleep-deprived madness!

Enjoy!

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When Demyx was young, he wrote a letter to a person he didn't know. Demyx never really remembered what was on that first letter, seeing as he never saw it again once it was sent. But he was pretty sure it went something like this:

_Dear Mystery Person,_

_If you've found this letter then that means you're special. I really wanted to find a friend, since I don't have any right now. I'm moving to a new town, and it's so far away that my family and I are getting on a Gummi Ship to get there. When you find this I hope you send me a letter back, then at least I'll have one friend. I promise that I'm really nice. Please write back._

_Your new friend,_

_Demyx_

Not the most eloquent of introductions, but at the time he had thought it was very clever. Demyx then put his new address at the bottom and put the letter into a bottle. When he and his family got into the Gummi Ship, he handed the bottle to a flight attendant and asked her if she could put it into space.

"What is that sweetie?" She asked, eyeing the bottle suspiciously.

"It's a letter to my new friend." He answered, still holding the bottle out to her.

"Then wouldn't it be a good idea to hold onto it until we get there, and give it to him yourself?" She said.

"But I don't know who he is yet." He told her innocently.

Luckily the Captain overheard and, understanding the child's request, agreed to send the bottle out while they were in flight. Demyx was overjoyed as he watched his letter float away into space, confident that by the time they had unpacked he would have a letter from his new friend waiting for him. He watched as it drifted through the darkness, moving slowly until it was just a speck, no bigger than the stars that dotted the blackness of space. When it was gone from sight he imagined its flight, swirling around planets and asteroids until it found a world and landed safely on its soil. He imagined his new friend, picking it up and reading the letter, running home to write up a reply.

When he and his family reached their new world the first thing he did was check the little red mailbox at the end of the driveway. When he found it empty, his mother assured him it was simply because it was too soon. He had just thrown the letter into space; his new friend may not even have received it yet! So Demyx helped unpack, and then when all the furniture was in place he checked the mailbox again. It was empty. So he helped his mother set up the kitchen, and after all her pots and pans were where she wanted, he ran back out to the mailbox. It was still empty. Finally his father told him that he would have to wait for the postman to drop it off tomorrow. So, obediently, Demyx went to bed.

The next day, as the family unpacked odds and ends from numerous boxes, Demyx waited patiently for the postman to come. However, when the man walked by and dropped off only coupon offers, Demyx was mortified. Why hadn't his new friend written back yet? Here was Demyx, all alone on this new world, and his new friend was so selfish he wouldn't even write him a letter! Demyx felt very alone, and so he sat down on the curb, underneath that red mailbox, hands clutching coupons for shampoo and cereal, and he cried. He cried for himself, he cried for his new friend that wouldn't send him a letter, and he cried because he was scared, scared of being all alone on a whole big planet where everything was different.

He didn't even notice when another young boy, around Demyx's age, hair as red as the mailbox, walked up to him. He was a lanky child, looking almost underfed, but this wasn't the case. He was just the type who never stopped moving and running and growing. His hair stood up at all angles, like he had just been rolling on the ground and sticks had been wound into his hair, holding it up in impossible ways. The boy stood there a few moments, silent, working away on a blue popsicle, just watching Demyx cry. He then yanked the melting treat from his mouth with a pop, startling Demyx from his misery. Demyx looked up, eyes wide and red from the crying, and the two boys surveyed each other for a moment.

"Whatcha cryin about?" The redhead asked, almost accusingly, following his statement with a lick of his popsicle.

"My new friend doesn't like me." Demyx told him, a hiccup in his voice, as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" Demyx said, as he felt as the tears started to brim over again. He began to sniffle as he tried to hold back from crying, not wanting to start sobbing in front of this unknown boy. The redhead just stared at him a few more moments, then said, in complete seriousness,

"Your new friend sucks."

Demyx gasped slightly, not only because his unknown friend had been made fun of, but because Demyx's mother didn't like that kind of language. However, the redhead just stood there, licking away at the popsicle, unaware of the seriousness of what he had just uttered.

"Don't say that about him!" Demyx yelled at the boy, and his eyes fell to the pavement, defeated, "He's the only friend I have…" He muttered sullenly, and the redhead snorted.

"Well guess what, now I'm your friend too. And I don't suck."

"You shouldn't say bad words like that!"

"So what if I do? Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Demyx huffed. This boy was stubborn and rude, but he supposed it was the best he could do under the circumstances. Besides, he had just said they were friends, right? So he can't be all bad.

"My name's Demyx, I just moved here."

"I'm Axel. I live over there." The boy, Axel, pointed to the house directly across the street. It looked a lot like Demyx's new house. Two stories, white porch on the front, garage on the side, except that Axel's house was brick instead of stone. But Demyx wasn't as concerned with this as he was with the blue concoction in his new friend's hand.

"Where'd ya get the popsicle?"

"My mom gave it to me. We have some more in the freezer. Want one?"

"It's a weird color."

"Its sea-salt, which is the best flavor in the world." Axel informed him loudly.

"It sounds stupid." He replied.

"You're stupid!" And with that Axel grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house across the street. The boy's mother, Demyx was happy to learn, did not use bad words like Axel did, and apparently Axel was smart enough not to use those words around his mom. She was overjoyed to meet Demyx, and was quick to hand him a blue popsicle. He found the taste to not be quite as horrible as he expected, it was actually quite good. However, he didn't think it lived up to Axel's claim of 'world's best flavor' and promptly told him so. The boys then argued over which flavor _was_ the best, and then went outside to Axel's front lawn and argued in the form of an epic space battle complete with ray guns and invincible armor that ended with both of them being victorious over an invading alien force, original argument forgotten.

At some point Demyx's parents had seen the heroic battle across the street and had wandered over and introduced themselves to Axel's mother. Just as the two boys had discovered their mutual love of the Sunday morning staple cartoon Keyblade Warriors of Destiny and were making their way to Axel's room to peruse his impressive action figure collection, Demyx's parent's called that it was time to go. With promises of a tomorrow filled with wonder, the two new friends parted. Demyx went to sleep that night, secure in the thought that he was no longer a stranger on a new world.

And this is how his letter, sent out among the stars, was promptly forgotten.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When Zexion was growing up, he received a letter from a boy he didn't know. He was walking to the library with his mother, hand in hand. The run down shops and boarded up businesses that lined the streets meant little to him, except that their foreboding presence had him clinging tightly to his mother's callused hand with creeping panic. Even though he was too old to be doing something so childish, he still appeared young enough to get away with it, and no one would blame him if he said that walking through town scared him. He looked up at his mother, and her sweet smile and confident air was reassuring.

They made it to their destination, the front lawn of the library filled with brown dead grass, the tree nearby oddly vacant of any leaves, even though it was the middle of the summer. Walking up the cracked steps of the old building, Zexion marveled again at how such a wonderful place full of knowledge and wisdom could exist in such a run down and barren world as theirs. Walking through the front door, Zexion felt at home, the rich smell of parchment and books filling the space around him. He slipped out of his mother's hand and headed to the stacks. Though they seemed bare in places, downright empty in others, Zexion knew just where to look to find what he wanted. The fiction section: the stories about heroes and mythical quests and barren worlds like his that could be saved by a simple adventure to see a kind wizard. Those were the books he wanted, those were to books he inhaled like the air of the library itself. They were in the back, so that's where he headed.

But he was stopped short by something unfamiliar. It was rare for there to be anything new in the library. Theirs was a dying world, and with bigger concerns, like staying alive and protecting towns from raiders, literature was not a priority. But today, on the desk by the entrance, was a glass bottle, the top broken off, and piece of paper rolled up and sitting inside. The kindly old man behind the counter saw him eying it.

"That's new, that is. I know you like to take a look at new things, young man."

"What is it?" Zexion asked, walking closer. He remained a respectful distance however, too scared to reach up towards the broken glass.

"It's a message in a bottle." The old man told him, eyes lit up with excitement, the kind that those his age rarely felt. Then again, there weren't that many who lived to be his age on this world.

"A message…in a bottle?" Zexion's whispered, eyes wide. This was just like his stories! A message in a bottle meant the start of an adventure, or a quest to save a damsel in distress. Maybe it was from a king in need of a knight!

"Someone found it lying in the park. When they opened the bottle and found the paper inside, they brought it here to find someone who could read it." The old man said, reaching over to gingerly pick up the precious paper. How sad, Zexion thought, that a king in need or damsel in distress would have their letter land here, on this run-down world where most couldn't even read, and fewer still were brave enough to even consider a mystic quest.

"What does it say?" Zexion finally dared to ask, voice filled with excitement.

"Here, read it yourself." The old librarian said, and handed the letter to the boy.

"Me?" Zexion questioned, but his hands moved of their own accord, reaching out for the precious letter.

"Yes, I think it's meant for you." The old man chuckled, and Zexion's eyes immediately dropped to the page to read. Some of the words were smudged, and broken glass had torn the paper in some places, but Zexion was able to make out most of the letter.

_Dear Myst-y Person,_

_If you've found this le- then - -s you're special. I rea- wanted to find a friend, since I don't - - - now. I'm - - a new town, and it's - far away that - - - - - - on a Gummi Ship to - there. When - find this I hope you send me a let-r back, then at least I'll have - frie-. I prom-se that I'm really n-ce. Please write back._

_Your new friend,_

_D-_

The gist of the letter was clear. A mysterious person – D – was asking him to write a letter. D had traveled to a distant world, let loose a message in a bottle, and now needed Zexion to write back. This was Zexion's epic quest, to fulfill this duty. Perhaps D was a prince (the handwriting looked suspiciously male) and was in need of a friend while surrounded by new subjects. He must be someone important at least, to have ridden on a real Gummi Ship! Zexion had dreams of flying to other worlds, the feeling of looking out the window and seeing the depth and darkness of space, instead of the yellow dusty sky of his own world, the harsh clouds and broken horizon littered with desolate buildings of a lost age.

"Are you going to write back, young man?" The old librarian asked, eying the boy with a smile.

"I…have to ask my mother." Zexion said, handing the letter back with shaking hands. The old man pushed it back towards him.

"Keep it. It was meant for you, after all." He said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Zexion nodded, aware of the depth of what the old man had just done. Anything written was a rarity in their world, those that could read even rarer. His mother was one of the few who kept that knowledge, and had taught him the skill when he was old enough to hold a book without hurting it. He considered this talent precious, and understood his mother's unwillingness to let it go. He was determined to not let his ability go to waste, and read constantly, or at least as often as his mother brought him to the library. Books were too precious to be brought home, after all.

And now, this old librarian was giving him this letter, this precious letter from another world. He was so excited that he nearly ran to his mother, forgetting to thank the librarian. But he remembered at the last moment, and the old man just smiled and nodded. Zexion then ran down the aisles of books, searching for his mother. He found her among the history books, where she could usually be found, trying to find the reason for their world's downfall. Zexion could never understand her desperate search for a reason when he was growing up. The past was the past, he told her, it won't change anything. Oh, but Zexion, she would say, people learn from the past, and what people learn shapes the future. We mustn't repeat our mistakes.

But he wasn't concerned with the future or the past in that moment. All he was concerned about was his letter, and his new friend. She read his letter, a tight smile on her lips, while he waited patiently at her feet.

"This is wonderful Zexion," she said, but her face didn't relax.

"Can I write him back?" Zexion asked, "I think that's his address at the bottom."

"What are you going to write on? We don't have any parchment, you know that." She said, awkward smile still in place.

"I have some money I saved from helping people around town. The mayor's wife gave me 5 munny when I helped her carry her grocery's the other day! I can use that to buy parchment!"

"That's a good idea sweetie, but…" Zexion's mother's voice faded out as she looked back down at the paper.

"What?" He asked, smiling falling from his face.

"Well sweetie," she started, "The thing is, it costs a lot of money to buy parchment, and it cost even more to send letters to a different world. We don't have that kind of money right now."

Zexion was instantly crushed. Everything he had been planning to say, everything he wanted to tell this mysterious prince of his, it was all ripped from him in this instant. He felt like his heart weighed a hundred pounds. His mother saw his despair.

"I'll tell you what we'll do Zexion." She said, lifting his chin up so he would look her in the eye, "You take your money and buy a little parchment, I'll even chip in a bit. Then you write your letter. Then, we'll save up money, special for you. And when we have enough we can send your letter to your new friend. How does that sound, hmm?"

Zexion was overjoyed, his hopes and dreams had just been handed back to him. He hugged his mother and she laughed, patting him on the head. She tucked the letter safely into her bag to take home, and Zexion ran back to tell the librarian. When he heard the plan, he smiled and reached under the desk. Curious, Zexion took hold of the edge and raised himself up. When the old man reappeared, he had in his hand a beautiful, crisp, stark white piece of paper. Next to it he placed a yellow pencil, tip flat, completely unused. Zexion gasped out loud.

"For your first letter. I've been saving them for something special."

When Zexion arrived home that night, he sat at his desk and pulled out that extraordinary blank piece of paper. He grabbed the pencil, which his mother had sharpened with a knife, and wrote his first letter to the mysterious D.

_Dear D,_

_I found your letter. I didn't really find it, but it was given to me by my friend the librarian. I hope that I'm what you had in mind for a friend. I'll try my best to write you letters, but my mother says it costs a lot to send them, so I apologize if they don't arrive often._

_It must be nice to live on a different world and ride in Gummi Ships. My world is sad, because everything is dying. My mother says it's because people a long time ago didn't take care of the world's heart, but I don't really understand that. Is your new world's heart okay?_

_I hope you get this letter soon when we have enough money to send it._

_Zexion_

The paper wasn't entirely filled by this, so Zexion put in a dry, safe place. He could fill up the rest of the space later, the paper was too precious to waste.

And so, Zexion began writing his letters to his mysterious D. He began taking on tasks around town, helping the remaining shopkeepers when he could, sometimes the librarian, saving up his munny. His mother never let him help the soldiers though. There to protect the town from raiders and vagabonds, they littered the streets and edges of town. They were a frightening bunch, grizzly and scarred from years of fighting. This meant, however, that they were the ones with the most munny, since towns paid well to be kept safe. Zexion's mother kept him away from them, but Zexion would have been too scared to ask them anyway.

Slowly but surely, Zexion acquired some munny. By that time, that one piece of paper was completely filled with letters to D, sometimes a few words, other times much longer, stories of trips with his mother or happenings of his small and mostly useless school. With his munny he went out and bought new parchment, and filled that up as well.

As time passed he filled up many pieces of paper the same way. He would get a little munny, buy some paper, fill it up as he got more munny, then use that munny to go buy more paper. The cycle continued endlessly. Eventually he had dozens of letters to D, all sitting quietly on his desk. He would write to D when he was sad, when he was happy, when he felt hopeless and depressed on this barren world, when he was optimistic about the future. All his emotions he poured out to D, never knowing who the other boy was.

He read that first letter often, through those broken torn words. He started keeping it in his pocket, carrying it wherever he went. The creases further obscured the words, but he knew it by heart by then. Just the feel of it close to him was what he wanted.

Eventually, as he grew up, he realized that D probably wasn't some prince from a kingdom far far away. He realized that the other boy had probably never even heard about the pitiful world that Zexion and his mother inhabited. And he realized, quite suddenly, that his letters were never going to be sent. He sat, starring at the pile of papers, all for one boy, and understood, wholly and completely, that D was never going to read what he had written. Would never open his mailbox to find a letter from Zexion, and read it with batted breath as Zexion had first read D's letter. And an emotion he never felt washed over him. Never before, even living on a dying planet, had he felt so utterly forsaken, so completely _alone_.

Zexion cried that night, and did the only thing he could do to make himself feel better.

He wrote a letter to D.

That's when he knew he was in love.

So he kept on writing. He kept on working and buying paper. He kept on recording his life and ideas and emotions. Because even if D didn't know he was writing, even if D would never get the letters, even if D didn't even exist, Zexion cared about him. He cared about the one person who, knowingly or not, had given Zexion a goal, a drive to do something in his life other than simply join the soldiers or find a pathetic job in a run-down store on a run-down world. He had given Zexion the drive to make it off of that dying planet, and that's what Zexion planned to do. And Zexion loved D for it.

Zexion loved D for reaching out to him, for giving him hope, for listening to him when Zexion had no one else to turn to. He knew, in his mind, that he had essentially created D. The real D was, in all probability, nothing at all like the one Zexion imagined. So Zexion decided to find him. He set his goal to not only get off of this barren world, but to find D, the _real_ D, and compare. Just maybe, he would be everything Zexion hoped for. Just maybe, Zexion would find him, and D would greet him with open arms, hold him close and whisper, "I've been waiting for your letters."

So he wrote, and he saved, and he worked to get away. He went on loving _his _D, who was there to comfort him when the dry planet with the dusty sky became too much, waiting for the day he could meet the _real _D. When he felt hopeless, he clutched the letter in his pocket, and remembered that there was someone out there who he needed to find. Someone who he could look in the eye and say,

"You don't know me, but I know you. I've told you every secret of mine, every wish, and every fear. You've been there for me most of my life, and now I'm here for you. Tell me your dreams and worries, because I love you, and I'm here to listen. And I'll never leave if you don't want me to."

And this is how a forgotten letter, having landed on a desolate world, made Zexion fall in love.

* * *

Yes yes. Let's see how this goes, shall we?

I know you read it every time you finish any chapter of any fic, but _please _review. Not because I'm a raging narcissist, but because I do actually need critique. I realize that this could use a lot of work, and I'd like to know what to do to make it better and more enjoyable to read. Also, when people review, it makes me realize that people actually like the story and I should get off my lazy arse and work on it a little more often. At a normal time of day, for example XD

Thanks for reading!


	2. To My Beloved

I'm really proud of myself for making this chapter longer than the last one, I feel like my chapters are never long enough. I was originally going to make this story a giant one-shot, but I'm not completely finished it and I really wanted to put at least some parts of it up.

Also, a big big thank you and warm fuzzy hug to those who reviewed the last chapter! When I read the reviews it made me feel like unicorns were jumping over rainbows in my heart 3 I'm a bit afraid this chapter won't be as well received, however, because it moves away from the youthful Demyx and Zexion and onto their college aged counterparts. I hope people like them all mature and well-cooked, as well as the kiddy-meal versions :D

Enjoy!

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"You do realize the ridiculous amount of space that thing takes up, right Dem? Dorm rooms are only so big."

Demyx gaped at his best friend, "You think I'm leaving my sitar at home? No way, are you nuts?" He clutched the instrument to his chest possessively.

Axel sighed, rolling his eyes, placing his hands on his hips. He often found himself in this pose while trying to rope in his friend, "I know its special to you, Dem-"

"Damn strait! This is a hand crafted instrument of the finest quality!"

"-but seriously, I don't think we can even fit it in the car." Both young men turned to the station wagon beside them. All the windows were blocked out by numerous boxes and bags and random items hastily thrown in at the last moment. It had taken the two of the nearly 10 minutes to simply close the trunk, and neither were looking forward to opening it and braving the cascade of objects when they arrived at the University.

"Well then I'll just hold it. I'm not leaving it behind!" Demyx argued, and headed over to take his seat in the car.

"Why'd your parents let you take lessons for such a goddamn gigantic instrument?" Axel muttered angrily, slipping into the driver's seat. Demyx struggled beside him, trying to maneuver the large sitar into a position where he could sit comfortably.

"It's a classic instrument of my native world, they wanted me to retain something from my heritage or whatever." He mumbled, finally settling into place. "Besides, I really like it, so shut up!"

"Excellent argument, Dem." Axel laughed, starting up the engine, "Let's get going before my mom runs out of the house and drags me back inside."

Pulling out of the driveway and heading out of the little town, Demyx breathed a sigh of relief. He and Axel were heading back to college for their second semester. They had come home for the winter break, and since their dorm was being remodeled after they found out it wasn't in regulation to fire safety codes ("So you could say that I did them a huge favor!" Axel argued with his mother, "They would have never known it was unsafe unless I had set off that alarm!") they had been forced to bring home all of their stuff. They now were lugging it back to campus, dreading having to unpack it all again.

After high school they had both chosen the same university, quite against the others knowledge. Demyx was going because of a music scholarship, he had no idea what he was going to major in. Axel, on the other hand, was going because of the University's chemistry program, one of best on this world, and because of the reduced price for students that were in-world natives. Demyx had run over to Axel's house after he accepted the admissions offer, only to find Axel online, choosing courses. They had stared at each other for a few moments before Demyx piqued up, "Do your housing contract yet? Let's be roomies!" to which Axel smacked him upside the head.

They were housing together though, after hearing Demyx's father's story of his first roommate ("And then the curtains were completely ruined! And the RA wasn't being much help, having fainted from all the blood and whatnot.") they decided it would be best if they didn't leave their fate up to random room assignments. So now they were all packed up, headed back to school. Demyx was relieved to be going back. He loved his parents dearly, but he didn't know how much longer he could have stood all the love and attention before he snapped. He was craving the freedom of college life.

He and Axel alternated between making idle chatter and silence as the ride continued, Demyx falling asleep for a bit and Axel fiddling with the radio. Eventually they got closer to campus, and their conversation picked up, mostly about all the people they were finally getting to see again.

"Is Marluxia living down the hall again? I remember him saying something about moving off campus."

"Yeah, he's getting an apartment." Axel scoffed, "Good riddance to him."

"You know, he wasn't that bad Axel. In fact, he was actually really nice. You were just a jerk towards him, so he was mean to you." Demyx chided him.

"Whatever, I don't like him."

"Suit yourself. There is one good thing that comes out of his leaving though."

"Besides the unending joy of his absence?"

"No, the unending joy of Larxene's absence!"

"Oh God, you're right!" Axel grinned like a maniac, and Demyx laughed at the expression on his best friend's face. Axel had every right to be excited about the removal of the pink-haired man's blond friend. Though friend may not have been the right word. No one really knew what word was supposed to be used; they didn't seem to be dating, but they were attached at the hip. Larxene was a nearly constant presence on their dorm floor, much to the general populace's displeasure.

"What's your schedule like?" Axel asked him, turning off of the highway.

"Pretty good, I don't have to be up before 11 most days, except Mondays and Thursday s, unfortunately. I have a class at eight in the freaking morning." Demyx answered solemnly.

"I'm sorry man, that's harsh. What class is it?"

"Some stupid history class I have to take cause I'm from off-world. Regardless of the fact that I've lived here since I was, like, seven."

"Well, at least it should be easy then, right?"

"Hopefully. My brain doesn't start functioning until at least ten."

They laughed together as Axel pulled onto campus. Both men were happy to see the familiar buildings, while at the same time disappointed to know what would be happening inside them. As Axel often mentioned, college would have been a lot more fun if there was less learning and more partying. To which Demyx would punch him in the arm and tell him to get back to reading his textbook.

They pulled up to their dorm and braved opening the trunk. Only a few of the random loose objects fell to the ground, and Demyx grabbed a few things before heading into the building to open up their room. He pushed the button on the elevator, waiting for the number above the door to light up and let him out. As he saw familiar faces in the hall he passed out cheery hello's, wanting to get unpacked instead of stopping to chat. There would be lots of time to talk later. After the door was unlocked and Demyx inside, he surveyed his living area. Two beds, two desks, it wasn't any different then how they had left it. He was jolted from his musings as Axel ran into him from behind.

"Watch it Axel!"

"So sorry, its just that all these boxes are heavy and I can't see around them. But don't worry, I've totally got this. You just relax and I'll lug all your shit up here."

"Oh, cool, thanks!"

"Go down and get your own crap, Demyx!"

After lugging their worldly possessions into the building and up to their room, setting up what they would immediately need for the night, they perused the hallway to check who had arrived. Familiar faces and familiar voices told them tales of winters spent at home or on vacation. They learned of the new addition to the floor, a silver-haired boy named Riku. He, thankfully, seemed a heap more reserved than the flamboyant Marluxia.

Demyx fell into bed that night, thankful to be back, but dreading the morning. Staring at the familiar ceiling, he prepared himself for Monday, the most un-holy of days. And eight am history class, his worst subject. He set his alarm, dreading its harsh cry that drew him from his precious slumber, and it was less of a 'drew' and more of a 'forcefully yanked and bitch-slapped'.

And the alarm did just that. At seven in the morning he was rudely awakened, and after a sharp slap of the sleep button, went promptly back to sleep. However the alarm would not be deterred so easily, and eventually Demyx had to admit defeat. He dragged himself to the shower in an attempt to wake up. Not long after that he found himself walking across campus, chewing on a granola bar. He was barely willing to wake up for a shower, going to the dining hall for breakfast was asking too much of him.

Thankfully the building his class was scheduled in wasn't too far from his room, so he only had to endure the cold January winds for a few minutes. He stumbled into class, falling into his seat and unbuttoning his coat. He paid little attention as the others walked in, instead letting his eyes explore the room. The class was small, only ten to fifteen students probably, as evidence by the tiny space and number of desks. Most students who went to the school were on-world natives, so not many were required to take this class. Demyx was still a little miffed at being considered an 'off-worlder' but perhaps it was a blessing in disguise; an easy A would be a nice boost to his GPA.

The professor finally walked in, about five minutes late. Demyx had been starring out the window, fingers tapping a broken rhythm on the desk. The professor handed out the syllabus and then cheerily announced that the class would be largely discussion based. Demyx joined in the collective groan when he asked for everyone to arrange their desks in a big circle. They grudgingly moved about until all the students were arranged in a shape similar to that of a circle, but anyone familiar with geometry would cringe at the sight of.

As they went through the syllabus Demyx's mind wandered in an attempt to stay awake. He doodled on the edges of the page, wrote a few lines of a song stuck in his head in the upper margin, every once in a while listening to what the professor had to say. He was jolted back to reality when the professor asked them to go around the circle and introduce themselves. What was this, Demyx thought, grade school?

One by one students stood up, giving all of the general college information: name, major, what year they were in, their original world for the sake of the class, and, at the professor's insistence, a 'fun fact'. When Demyx's turn arrived he looked around nervously.

"Uh, hey," He waved nervously at no one in particular, "My name's Demyx, I'm a freshman. I don't know what I'm majoring in yet. I'm originally from Atlantis…it's the world with the crystal heart." A few of the other students nodded in recognition. Demyx wasn't surprised, not many had heard of his original world unless its odd heart was mentioned. The story of how his world had bestowed its heart's power to a princess and she had saved the world from annihilation by giant wave was a common bedtime tale.

"And my fun fact is that...ummm…I'm a musician. I play sitar." He shrugged and sat down. What more could they want to know? The girl to his right stood up and continued. He tried to listen as the rest of his classmates introduced themselves, but he found his mind straying as class time winded down. He was brought back to reality by a shocking phrase.

"I'm from Traverse."

The entire class was suddenly at attention, staring at the boy who stood calmly, gazing back at those in the circle. Traverse, home to the infamous Traverse Town, was the most dangerous world one could find. This boy was _from_ that place. That dead dying planet, home to a mottled collection of inhabitants among whom hid fugitives and thieves; this boy called that place home. Demyx surveyed him. Steel-blue hair, a short stature, but he held himself with confidence. He took in the gazes of his newly interested classmates evenly, his blue eyes gazing back with a blank stare, almost bored. He was expecting that reaction, Demyx though, he knows his world's reputation.

"I could be considered a freshman, though the program I am in is structured such that I do not have an official class standing. I am majoring in MWH."

Demyx's eyes widened. MWH was the school's acronym for Multiple World History. It was essentially a History major on crack. You learned not only this world's history, but that of numerous other worlds nearby, the number varied on how in-depth you wanted to go; the more worlds, the tougher the major became. And if this guy had come from Traverse, which was quite a distance away, he must me studying a lot of different worlds. If Demyx had known he was going to have a genius in his class, he probably would have put on a nicer shirt.

"My fun fact is that I enjoy reading and studying literature from different worlds in my spare time." He informed them, then sat down and nodded to the boy next to him. The boy stuttered a bit before introducing himself. Demyx couldn't take his eyes off the student from Traverse though. Why hadn't he been listening when he said his name? The other man sat, hair over his left eye, listening intently to the remaining students spout off useless facts about themselves.

How could someone from Traverse have gotten into such a difficult major? The place was notorious for its lack of a civilized education system, it just had scattered schools here and there. It was even more notorious for its decrepit towns and poverty stricken people. This guy must have been some sort of genius to get accepted into any school's program, and more than likely he had been given a huge scholarship to boot. How else could he have made it off Traverse?

As the professor announced the topic of discussion for the next class period, the students began to pack up. Demyx shoved everything in his backpack, his eyes never straying from the blue-haired man. Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, he walked to the door, behind most of the other students who were more anxious to leave than he was. The object of his attention was in front of him as he walked out the door. Before Demyx realized what he was doing, his hand reached out and tapped the other man on the shoulder. He turned, eyes curious.

"Yes?" he asked, stepping out of the flow of students and stopping to look expectantly at Demyx.

"Umm, well, it's just that…" Demyx stuttered, still surprised at himself for reaching out to the blue-eyed stranger, "I kinda missed your name in there."

"My name is Zexion." The other told him gently.

"Oh, okay. I'm-"

"Demyx, I know. It's nice to meet you." Zexion extended his hand and Demyx took it to shake. Goodness gracious, Demyx thought, had this genius memorized everyone's name after only hearing them once?

"Do you mind if I ask you something, Demyx?" Zexion asked quietly, and Demyx nodded, "Does Traverse really have such a reputation as to make the entire class react that way?" His eyes were on the ground as he asked, hands hidden in his pockets.

Ahhh, so he hadn't been so calm and collected after all, Demyx thought with a smirk. This guy had guts. He's from Traverse after all. Demyx thought about how to phrase his answer without insulting Zexion.

"Well…it's just that…Traverse is sorta generally known as a pretty…rough…place to live. We don't really meet too many people from that far off, anyway…" He scratched the back of his head, hoping he hadn't said anything too stupid. Zexion seemed to consider his words carefully, his brow creasing in thought.

"Have you been on this world long enough to know that not many of my people come here?" he asked, surprising Demyx.

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"Your attendance and introduction in class signify that you are not from this world, but you speak as if you have been here for longer than your freshman standing indicates."

"Oh, yeah! I moved here with my family awhile ago, when I was about seven or eight. But since I'm still technically an off-worlder-"

"You were forced to take the class." Zexion cut in, a look of pity on his face. Demyx shrugged and nodded. Zexion chuckled and looked at his watch, "I apologize Demyx, but I must be getting to my next class. Thank you for answering my questions. It was…enlightening." A small smile graced his face, and Demyx couldn't help but beam back at him.

"It was great talking to you too! We should hang out sometime!"

Zexion looked a little taken aback by the statement, and Demyx found that he was too. He hadn't really meant to be so forthcoming, but Zexion just seemed like someone Demyx could get along with. There was something about the slate haired man that he found himself drawn to, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Was it his confidence, his calm demeanor? But then Zexion smiled, and Demyx lost his train of thought.

"That sounds nice." He said, and turned to head to his next class, "I'll see you later then, Demyx."

"Yeah…"Demyx muttered to no one as Zexion headed down the hallway and into a stairwell, "See you later."

And this is how the little boy, who threw a message in a bottle out into space, finally met his new friend.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bright.

That was the word that came to mind when he walked through this world. Its colors, its scenery, its literature, its music, its history, its _people_; they were so _bright_. They looked you in the eye when you spoke to them, walked with confidence, held their heads high. Zexion had been in awe of this unusual behavior since he had left Traverse. Slowly, as he had moved farther and farther from his own world, the people had been getting more and more outgoing, more accepting, more trusting. It was as if the more he moved away from the sorrow and rubble of his own world, the people became more and more _human_. And he had finally reached this place, this beautiful world, where the people all but shone, like the bright stars he had seen out of the window of the Gummi Ship.

He often would find himself starring at commonplace objects, a tree with all its leaves, a dripping faucet, and smiling face, entranced by these normal items that were so rare on his own world. He would wonder at how he had managed to make it off Traverse at all. He thought back to the struggle he had gone through, how he had saved every cent he owned to mail off those applications to different programs, for scholarships, for anything that could get him off his dying home world. It nearly killed him when he sent those applications. He had run his fingers over the envelopes numerous times, wishing he could tear off the postage and use it to mail the letters that had been sitting on his desk for years. But he had restrained himself with the thought that, while the letters would reach D, the applications would allow him to _meet_ D…hopefully.

His mother had fretted over him throughout the process, but in the end she knew that what he was striving for would be best for him. He often thought of his mother, back home in that decrepit town, alone. When the neighbors had heard that he would be leaving, not just the town, but Traverse altogether, they had promised to watch over his mother for him. He knew she would be safe, and happy knowing that her son had escaped the fate she had met, the fate of being trapped on a world that was slowly fading away. But he was still allowed to think about her, to miss her. But no matter how much he missed her (and really she was the only the thing from his home that he missed) he found himself enraptured by these new worlds he visited, so enthralled by their beauty and openness and life, that he could never see himself returning to his dying home.

And now he was here, in this _bright_ world, and he was sure that he never wanted to return to Traverse, never wanted to leave this place at all. And it wasn't just the brightness of the places and people, the life that ran through everything in the same way that death ran through Traverse. That wasn't what made him want to latch onto this world and never leave; there was something much more important here.

This was the world on the return address of D's letter.

It had been smudged, like the rest of the letter, but this was the world, this was the place that D resided. He would find him here. He _needed _to find him here. The letters to D had come along with him when he left Traverse, and he intended for them to be delivered. One way or another, he would find the man he loved. Of that he was absolutely certain.

But for now, he had to go to class. Yes, it was ridiculous, knowing that D was walking about on this planet, knowing how close he was, that Zexion had to attend something as simple and mundane as a lecture. However, he was adamant to not let his mother's time and teaching be wasted on him. So the last few months had passed, week after week attending classes, knowing that beyond that horizon was his one true reason for being on this world.

As he sat and listened to the professor, his eyes scanned the lecture hall, resting on figures here and there. Once again marveling at the brightness of the people here, he thought to his newest friend. Demyx had been a strange acquisition. It wasn't to say that he hadn't made friends on other worlds. He still kept contact with the sturdy Lexaeus, who was in the same major as he, but a year older. Lexaeus had been extremely helpful in explaining the ways of worlds other than Traverse. How you didn't have to be constantly watching the horizon for raiders, how you didn't need to be afraid of people you hadn't known all your life. Lexaeus was a mentor as much as a friend.

But Demyx was different. He was open, he was cheery, he was kind. In essence, he was everything Traverse wasn't, and at times Zexion thought himself the complete opposite of Demyx. Zexion had been taught from birth to be cautious, be quiet, to dread the future and what it may hold. Demyx's very being was in complete contradiction to that logic. Zexion wondered how he could have such camaraderie with someone like Lexaeus, someone of few words but strong logic, but have fallen so easily into a true _friendship_ with someone like Demyx. But then the blond would mutter something so impressively profound that Zexion found himself at a loss for words, and he would realize that Demyx was just as intelligent as Lexaeus. But instead of being a man of few words, Demyx was a man of many _many_ words.

On that Monday morning, a few months ago, Zexion had walked into that eight am class expecting everything and nothing. It was his first class on this new world, and the knowledge that somewhere nearby D was waiting was still fresh in his mind. He had listened to the others introduce themselves with little interest, storing away names and faces absentmindedly. A few of them, a boy named Dajh from Cocoon, another named Demyx from Atlantis, a older girl named Dona from Spira, stood out to him, but only because their names began with a D. Things took a strange turn when he had introduced himself. He had been expecting a reaction, something like a look of pity or a disapproving eye, like those on previous worlds had given him. But some of the other students looked downright _terrified_ of him, like he could reach out and destroy them with a flick of his wrist.

When Demyx confronted him, he was assuming the boy was just being trying to be friendly, after the frightened reaction he had gained in class. His heart had done a little skip when Demyx had mentioned that he had moved here when he was young, when he may have been young enough to send a letter out into space looking for a friend. But Zexion pushed that thought away. Running into D in one of his classes on the first day of school? The odds of something like that actually happening were so infinitesimal that it was near impossible. He expected that the end of their conversation would be the last close contact he ever had with Demyx. But the blond had made good on his promise to hang out, and Zexion soon found himself dragged to group dinners and weekend outings. Demyx had introduced him to his friend Axel, who had promptly asked him if Traverse was really the shithole it was made out to be. When Zexion replied that, no, it was in fact worse than the descriptions, the redhead had let out a curt, but amused laugh.

Since that time, Demyx had promptly decided that Zexion was some sort of lost puppy, and it was his job to take care of him. He had been dragged around campus, shown all the secrets and back alleys, and knew every building, regardless of whether he had a class there or not. He had sampled the many restaurants nearby, because when Demyx had heard that they didn't have fast food on Traverse (in fact a rather poor amount of food at all) he had been flabbergasted and had immediately moved the conversation to the nearest building that sold cheeseburgers. But their friendship was more than Demyx simply showing him the sights and many types of cuisine. Zexion couldn't seem to understand why they had become so close, until it finally hit him. Demyx simply _wouldn't_ let him go, and Zexion had responded to that by actually opening up and letting Demyx in.

Numerous times, after they had first meet, Zexion had thought himself a burden to the cheerful man. He saw Demyx's light, his brightness, and saw reflected in that his own darkness. Zexion had attempted to keep his distance, so that he wouldn't put out that light. Why should Demyx want someone as solemn as Zexion around, anyway? Someone from a frightening dying world who was more interested in the library that the stores and bars downtown. But Demyx refused to let him sink away. He was always there with a 'Hey, have you eaten yet?', or 'Want to see that movie tonight? You know, the one Axel won't shut up about?' He had even stood up for him, when some other students had confronted him about being from a dead world of lunatics, Demyx had been there to tell them, in no polite terms, to fuck off. Zexion had never had a friend like that, never had someone who willingly stayed by his side and fought for him, with no gain in it for themselves.

And now the months had passed by, and as Zexion sat in lecture it suddenly occurred to him that he could say with confidence that Demyx was the first _real _best friend he had ever had. At home he was so concerned with studying and learning and getting off Traverse that he didn't really make friends with any of the town's children. Why should he make friends there when he was going to be leaving someday anyway? D was the only friend he had needed.

Zexion felt a wave of guilt suddenly wash over him. He had never told Demyx about D. He wasn't trying to hide it from the other man, but he didn't really see the necessity of it. D had nothing to do with Demyx, and Demyx never questioned Zexion about the box under his bed filled with letters. Then again, Demyx had no knowledge of this box, but that, Zexion argued, was against the point. Demyx was his truest friend, and he didn't want anything to ruin that. If Demyx knew that Zexion was in love with an arguably imaginary person, and it was Zexion's main goal to find this person in real life and confess said love to him…needless to say, Zexion was completely aware of the absurdity of the situation. If Demyx were to ask about it, Zexion wouldn't lie. He could never lie to Demyx, bright caring Demyx who would grab his hand and lead him around campus on 'adventures' that were simply excuses to spend time together while Axel and his new friend Roxas spent some alone time in the dorm room. He would never lie to Demyx. But if he happened to leave out certain things from conversations and avoid certain topics, no one could blame him for that.

Later that night, he sat in his apartment, writing a letter to D. He had kept up his letter writing as he had moved from world to world, eyes always focused on the goal of finally meeting D. He read over the letter, checking for mistakes and making sure everything he wanted to say was said. As he moved to put the letter down and reach for a textbook, he stopped mid-motion. He pulled the letter back to his eyes and read it. Then he read it again. He couldn't seem to understand what he had written, it didn't make sense. It wasn't that the wording was incorrect or the grammar was wrong, all of that was perfect. It was something much more distressing that had finally, but abruptly, wormed its way into his mind.

He never mentioned Demyx.

Not once.

He dove under his bed and pulled out the box with D's letters. He grabbed a few off the top, the ones he had written on this world. He read through them quickly, his heart racing faster and faster, but he wasn't sure why. A small part of his brain pointed out the realization that the more time he spent with Demyx, the fewer letters he had written to D. He had found himself busy, studying with his new found friends, attending the school's orchestra concerts to watch Demyx play, and the number of letters he had written had slowly dwindled. But the content was what interested him now. He always wrote about what he was doing, but only with his 'friends'. He mentioned Axel's name once or twice, but he never explicitly talked about Demyx. He had never written about things they did together, or the adventures that they went on. Not even his name.

Not even Demyx's name.

Zexion grabbed the front of his shirt, desperate for something to cling too as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. Why would he leave his best friend out of the letters to his true love? Why would he not tell D about Demyx, in the same way he never told Demyx about D? But he already knew. It was obvious really, he had just never stated it to himself, afraid of the consequences. He had kept it hidden away in the back of his mind, locked in a dark recess. But now Zexion unlocked that door and fully realized the truth.

He was falling for Demyx.

His heart didn't know whether to burst with joy at the sudden revelation, or shatter into a million pieces at the betrayal he had committed. His mind raced with the consequences of his realization, trying in vain to formulate plans on what to do, where to go from here. He looked again to the letter in his hand, and realized with a start that it covered in droplets of water. He reached a hand to his face, and found that he was crying.

Why did it feel like he had committed a crime? Why did it feel like he had broken someone else's heart? D didn't know who he was, D didn't know that Zexion loved him, D _wasn't real_. He was just a character that Zexion had made up, an idealized friend, the perfect love. But he wasn't perfect, because he wasn't _real_. Demyx was real. It made sense for him to love Demyx, not some imaginary figure he had created to fill the empty void in his chest. So why did it hurt? Why did it feel like there was a gaping hole in his chest, like his heart had been torn out in the same way Traverse's had, leaving him once again the boy standing in the run down town with no friends and no protection from the cruel and hateful world? He thought of Demyx, of his bright eyes and confident smile, his practiced fingers flying along the strings of his sitar, his beautiful voice as he would sing. Demyx was real, Demyx was here in his grasp, he _loved_ Demyx. So why was there this pain?

He knew why. It was because somewhere, D _did_ exist. It wasn't Zexion's D, but it was D nonetheless. That thought had kept Zexion moving forward, that had been his drive, his motivation for most of his life. If he loved someone else, where did that leave him? How could he move on? His love for D had pushed him forward, pulled him from Traverse and into the stars. Was that all for nothing?

So he stopped thinking…and he just let himself cry. He let the pain of his own betrayal wash over him, he let his joy at the realization of love and the sickness that came with it fill him up inside until it was impossible to hold it anymore, and he let it fall from his eyes onto the precious words he had written to a person who didn't even know he existed. He let his anger at himself boil over, his anger for chasing after a stranger while being blind to the beautiful loving person right in front of him. He let these emotions reach into the deepest part of him and tear him to pieces, and in the letters scattered on the floor he saw those jagged pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle. He then knew what he had to do to put the puzzle back together, but the thought only made him cry more.

And this is how, arriving with intentions of studying, Demyx found Zexion; kneeling on the floor, sobbing silently to himself, clutching letters to his chest in a desperate attempt to hold onto his own being.

* * *

Well well well, that took a harsh turn rather suddenly.

Like I said last chapter, I really really _really_ appreciate critiques and suggestions for improvements, on this chapter more-so than the last one.

Honestly, I don't know if I'm fully satisfied with this chapter. I'm just not sure that I wrote it convincingly. I would really appreciate a comment telling me whether or not you thought that Zexion's emotions were too...too something, I'm not even sure myself. Too sudden? Too unbelievable? You tell me...

Just imagine that every time you leave a review, I float through the interwebs and give you a hug, because that's what I wish I could do :D


	3. To My Image of Perfection

I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Or if you live somewhere that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you had a wonderful last week of November! I personally spent some time at home with my family, and was smothered and suffocated under all the love and affection. Also, I beat Assasin's Creed in about 4 days, which I count as a great accomplishment. Oh yeah, and I worked on this story I guess... XD Enjoy!

* * *

Demyx thought his life was perfect. He had thought that all the pieces had magically fallen into place.

But Demyx had a problem. It wasn't the kind of problem that was life threatening. But it was kind of a _big problem _nonetheless. Sure, he didn't know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, but that wasn't the _big problem_. He had exams to worry about, and an orchestra recital coming up, and his favorite brand of hair product was apparently being discontinued. But those weren't the _big problem_.

The big problem was that he was in love with his best friend.

If you had told him a year ago this was going to be a problem, he would have scoffed at you and told you that Axel and he were really close friends, but it was never _ever_ going to go that far. It made him wonder to think how quickly life could change in just a few months. Because now it was Zexion that filled the role as Demyx's best friend, and it was Zexion that Demyx had fallen completely head over heels for.

Zexion had turned out to be more than just another guy in his eight am class. Demyx had seen the way some people looked at the poor guy, some with fear and others with anger. He had decided that maybe Zexion had needed a friend on this world. So he had dragged him around a bit, prodded and poked until the other man had opened up a little. Once Zexion had realized that Demyx wasn't going to just toss him in the gutter, he had quickly turned into Demyx's best friend. But for the life of him, Demyx couldn't figure out _how_.

What was it about the slate-haired man? Sure, Zexion was funny. It was a witty, subtle humor with lots of sarcastic undertones, but Demyx though Zexion was hilarious. And he was smart, oh so smart. Demyx didn't think that he would have managed to be passing half his courses if it hadn't been for Zexion and his tutoring. He had been patient, kind, and never condescending or rushing, even though Demyx could tell that Zexion was far more intelligent that he was. He was quiet, but not secluded. Shy but charismatic. Clever, but never haughty. And gorgeous, Demyx couldn't forget that one. But none of those were why he meshed so well with the other man.

With Axel, their friendship had developed because of similar interests. As they had grown up, those interests had stayed close. Of course, each loved something the other couldn't stand, but for the most part they had been rather alike. Even their temperaments were the same; both had to keep moving, keeping in action, never sit still and get bored. Axel and Demyx were like two peas in a pod. But with Zexion, it wasn't that way at all. Zexion and Demyx were more like apples and oranges.

But that was why it _worked._

They may have been completely different, but they meshed together like the perfect fruit salad. They complimented each other in a way that Axel often remarked was "Freaking scary, Dem. I don't know how he ended up here, but you should thank your lucky stars that your other half managed to wind up in the same university as you."

And that was what Demyx thought of Zexion. He was his other half. Zexion was quiet, so Demyx filled that silence with his own voice. But at the same time that stillness was instilled on him, balancing out the two men. Zexion was logical, rational. Demyx wasn't unintelligent, but he was prone to sometime forget to look before he leaped. Again, they acted as a stabilizer for the other, Demyx gaining composure and Zexion becoming more spontaneous. What one man lacked the other had in excess, and was more than willing to share. They filled each other out, smoothed away the rough edges.

And more than that, Demyx just _liked_ the other man. He was witty and kind, and with a little nudging from Demyx he was willing to try new things. Demyx had learned that the other boy had very few 'normal' experiences on Traverse, at least according to his own standards. For example, Demyx couldn't comprehend what kind of normal college student hadn't ridden a rollercoaster. Zexion hadn't been quite sure what a rollercoaster was and why it was, according to Demyx, 'The best thing since sliced bread'. A weekend trip to a nearby theme park had fixed that, but unfortunately Zexion was adamant about never ridding one again, especially after the unfortunate mid-ride photograph.

As much as Demyx thought these kinds of trips were what Zexion would want to experience on this new world, he was often taken aback when Zexion would seem to be amazed or astounded by mundane objects or events. During a holiday they had gone to watch a parade, but Zexion had been confused as to what exactly they were going to see.

"You know, a parade." Axel had tried explaining, "They've got floats and stuff. And they throw candy to kids."

Zexion had nodded, as if he understood. Later, as they were following the crowds down the street to the main road, Axel and Roxas ahead, hands clasped together, Zexion asked him, "Hey Demyx, what's a float?"

"Huh? A float?"

"Yes. Axel said that parades had floats. Is that some sort of kite or balloon?"

"Uhh…no. A float is…it's a…I don't know, it's a float. I don't know how else to describe it. It's like a truck, but with streamers and...stuff…didn't you have floats on Traverse?"

"No. We never had reason for a large scale celebration. I've only ever read about parades, and not in detail."

So Demyx watched as Zexion's eyes lit up like a child's as those first floats passed by. He seemed amazed by all the people gathered there, the colors of the tissue paper that covered the cars driving by. When Demyx finally caught a piece of candy, which he had managed to grab just before it got into Roxas's reach, he handed it to his slate-haired friend. Zexion had taken the piece of candy from Demyx, almost gingerly, as if it may disappear into a puff of smoke, and had looked up with his dark eyes and _smiled_. It was the most pure, radiant smile that Demyx had ever seen, and it was just for Demyx. He wasn't sure if that was the exact moment he had started falling for Zexion, but that was definitely the moment he _realized_ he was falling for Zexion.

And so that was how it went. Demyx would show Zexion exciting and awe-inspiring things, only to find his efforts in vain as Zexion was amazed by the simplest act of kindness that Demyx would give him. Every time that Zexion smiled or laughed Demyx would find his heart fluttering, his chest tightening. He wanted so badly to tell Zexion, to let the other man know that he was in love with every piece of him: his heart, his eyes, his soul, his smile. But there was something holding him back.

That something was Zexion.

It was the way Zexion would sometimes look off into the distance, eyes focused on something far away. Most would chalk it up to day-dreaming, but Demyx knew better. Zexion wasn't one to let his thoughts idly wander. He had to be thinking of something or, as Demyx believed was the case, some_one_. It was like Zexion was trying to see through the trees and the mountains, perhaps even space itself, to catch a glimpse of a certain person. Was it someone from Traverse, someone he had left behind? Or perhaps someone he was searching for, someone important to him? Demyx didn't know who, but he knew that as long as Zexion was either looking behind him or into the future, it meant he wasn't looking at the here and now. Which meant he wasn't looking at Demyx.

However, Demyx prided himself on his stubbornness. So he stayed by Zexion's side, because even if the slate-haired man loved someone else, that didn't mean that Demyx had to stop loving Zexion. He wasn't going to forsake Zexion and throw him to the curb simply because the other man was possibly in love with someone else. He would battle through, and just maybe Zexion would see him the same way he saw the solemn beauty. And if not…well, Zexion was still his best friend, right? He was absolutely certain that would never change.

At least, he was absolutely certain up until the day he walked into Zexion's apartment to find the other man sobbing on the floor.

Demyx had never seen Zexion cry before. The difficult courses in his difficult major, the prejudice against him because he was from Traverse, the strain of being away from his family back home; Demyx knew that Zexion struggled with these things, Zexion had confided in him more than once. But he had only expressed his feelings in a calm and reasonable manner, never getting too emotional or the least bit distraught. Never ever had he come close to crying.

And here was Zexion, kneeling on the carpet, papers scattered around him on the floor, in complete hysterics. Demyx was frozen. He couldn't even comprehend what could have possibly caused this sort of reaction out of Zexion. Some sort of tragedy must have occurred: him mother dying, his home destroyed, Demyx could only think of the worst possible scenarios. After all, whatever this disaster had been, it was enough to make his quiet, somber best friend cry. The other man didn't even to notice that Demyx had let himself in, and was now standing, completely shocked, in the entrance.

It was difficult, watching his love's shoulders heave with sobs, hearing the short strangled cries, to collect himself enough to put his things down and make his way over to Zexion with a calm face. He reached out to put his hand on Zexion's shoulder, but pulled back. He didn't want to startle him, so he took a few steps back and said very quietly,

"Zexion, I'm here."

The other man turned around, sobs still shaking his whole body, and Demyx nearly cracked apart when he saw Zexion's face. His cheeks were covered in tears, eyes red and swollen from the weeping, lips parted, trying to suck in air that his lungs were unwillingly giving up. It was like there was something inside of him that was eating away at his very being, and the only way to let it out was to let loose the lamentation, the cries of sadness bottled up in his throat. When Zexion registered that Demyx was standing before him, his eyes grew wide, making the redness more evident.

"Zexion, what's wrong? What happe-"

"Get out."

It wasn't so much Zexion's immediate dismissal that shocked him. It was the deadpan voice, the completely even tone. Though he could still see that Zexion was shaking, he seemed to have composed himself somehow. It was like he had put up a wall between himself and Demyx, the wall that Demyx had tried so hard to break down after they had first met. But it was back now, with added reinforcements. But Demyx didn't understand what he had said.

"What are you talking about? You're obviously -"

"I said get out, Demyx."

"No! Not until you tell me what's going on."

"No. Get out." Zexion had completely stopped shaking now, and had stood, gathering up the paper around him.

"Stop saying that! What the hell happened?" Demyx reached down and, before Zexion could take it, snatched away one of the pieces of paper from the carpet. "What the hell are these, Zexion?"

"They're nothing. Please leave." He asked again, reaching for the paper in Demyx's hand. But Demyx skipped backwards out of Zexion's grasp and scanned the first few lines on the sheet.

"Who's D? Did this guy do something to you?"

"No. Now give me the letter and leave."

"He obviously did do something, cause I just walked in to find you sobbing on the floor! Tell me what's going on! Please Zexion, maybe I can help!"

"You're the last person who can help me right now Demyx. The letter, please." He held out his hand expectantly, and Demyx could only stare. Finally he managed to stutter out,

"How do you know I can't help if you won't tell me what's going on?"

"You simply cannot. I need you to leave Demyx."

The phrase wasn't uttered any differently than anything else that Zexion had said, but it struck Demyx in a strange way. Zexion had so far been telling for Demyx to leave…but now he _needed_ him to leave? Could that mean…

"Is this somehow my fault?" He asked quietly, and Zexion's eyes flared with anger, whether at his own blunder or Demyx's cunning, Demyx wasn't sure.

"…The letter please, Demyx."

"It is! It is my fault! What did I do? Am I this D? Is this to me or something?"

"No, you are not D."

"Then what did I do?" Demyx was screaming now, but Zexion's voice was still calm and level.

"Absolutely nothing."

"I don't understand!"

"You're not meant to. Now give me the letter."

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

Zexion closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Honestly Demyx? Because it's none of your damn business; I don't have to explain anything to you."

Demyx was stunned. He couldn't even think of anything to respond with, because his mind had shut down. This was _Zexion_. His best friend, the man he loved more than anyone in the world, in _any _world. And now that man was saying that he didn't even matter, not one little bit. He expected to feel pain, to feel hurt. But honestly, he didn't. Because he suddenly couldn't feel _anything_. It was like someone had torn out his heart and locked it away in a box. There was nothing anymore, just a strange hollowness. If he pressed, he could feel it burning around the edges, like a flood was being held back behind large doors, just waiting for the lock to be broken.

But the lock didn't need to be shattered, the key was handed over willingly when Zexion finally opened his eyes and looked up. Demyx was expecting to see anger, loathing, _hate_. But instead, Zexion's eyes were filled with something else, something completely unexpected. _Grief_. Like the things he had just uttered had driven a stake into his heart and soul, like he was feeling all the pain that Demyx was too numb to feel. Zexion knew what he had done when he uttered those words, and it was tearing him apart. And now that Demyx knew that, the pain wasn't distant anymore. Where the hole in his chest had been, there was now a burning fire, a pit of magma burning him from within, making its way outward and destroying him from inside out. Zexion hadn't wanted to do this, of that he was sure. So _why?_ Why would he hurt Demyx like this? Why would he hurt himself? What was so desperately important that Zexion had to rip apart both their souls?

"Fine," Demyx finally choked out, the letter in his hand slipping through his fingers and slowly sinking to the floor, "If that's what you want…I'll just be going now."

He felt like he was floating as he walked over to pick up his things. Like he was strangely unattached to the world around him. All that existed was the constant burning and tightening feeling in his chest, the memory of Zexion's dead voice and anguished eyes. He managed to get his things and make it to the door. He turned around to find that Zexion hadn't moved an inch. He still stood, looking at the place where Demyx had been, like a ghost of him still lingered there.

"Goodbye…Zexion." Demyx uttered, and then he turned, walked out, and closed the door.

He walked back to his room on autopilot. The trees, the buildings, and stars, none of them registered. The evening air numbed his nose and fingers, but it did little to quell the pain inside of him. The memories wouldn't stop racing through his mind; Zexion's cold face, his own screams, the letters, the tears, the –

Tears. He was crying now. He brought his cold hand up to wipe at his face, but the tears wouldn't seem to stop making their tracks down his face. He got to his building and traveled up to his floor. He leaned against the door, hoping it would be locked, signaling Axel's absence. Unfortunately it gave way under his weight, and his red-haired roommate sat at his desk typing away as some paper or another. He didn't look up.

"Hey Dem. Thought you were heading over Zexion's to study. You didn't forget, did you?" Axel asked teasingly.

"No, I didn't forget."

"Did he finally get annoyed at how hopeless you are with math and kick you out?" Axel asked with a laugh. Demyx let his things drop to the floor.

"No, he kicked me out and wouldn't tell me why."

"Wha-?" Axel turned around at this, and finally took in Demyx's tear stained face and tortured expression. "Oh my god Dem, what happened?"

"I told you. I got there and he kicked me out and wouldn't tell me why. End of story."

"No, not end of story! I think you might be leaving out a few parts!"

"Just write your paper, Ax." Demyx told him, falling onto his bed. He hugged his pillow under him, hoping the familiar feeling of his warm bed and soft sheets would sooth him. It did little to help. Axel got up and walked over, taking a seat beside his estranged friend.

"Dem, tell me exactly what happened. Please, maybe I can help." Axel asked, and his words struck Demyx deeply. Hadn't he just uttered those words to Zexion? He rolled over and looked up at his lanky friend.

"I got to Zexion's house and he was crying, so I asked him what was wrong and he freaked out. He just started telling me to leave and when I asked why he said it wasn't any of my business and that he wanted me to go away." Axel only nodded, so Demyx assumed he wanted more detail. "There were these pieces of paper all over the floor, and I picked one up. It was a letter, I guess Zexion had written it, to some guy named D. Who has a name like that? I asked him who it was and he wouldn't say and then I asked him if it was my fault and he didn't deny it and then I couldn't stop yelling at him and he wouldn't look at me and I-!"

"Dem, stop." Axel uttered gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. Demyx realized that he was crying harder now, his breaths starting to come in shaky sobs.

"He hates me now." He whispered to no one.

"He doesn't hate you, Dem." Axel said quietly, rubbing small circles on his back, "He never actually said that, did he?"

"No…" Demyx sullenly replied.

"Then there's just something going on that he needs to deal with on his own." Axel told him soothingly, "I know Zexion, and he would never do something to intentionally hurt you unless he was trying to protect you from something."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Cause unlike you, and Zexion for that matter, I'm not completely blind."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he really likes you, and that I already know that you're completely in love with him. Seriously, you turn into putty whenever he's around. It's gross."

"Shut up…"

They sat there like that for a bit, and slowly but surely Axel's words sunk in. Demyx sobs quieted to gentle tears, and finally the flow of water droplets ended. Demyx wiped the moisture from his eyes and sat up. Axel looked at him expectantly, but Demyx didn't know what to say. He was more confused than before. Did Zexion hate him? Or maybe he _was_ trying to protect him from something. Who was this D person? Why did Zexion not want Demyx to know what he was up to? None of it made any sense.

But there was one thing that Demyx was sure of: it was just like Axel said, Demyx loved Zexion. This situation, though confusing and daunting, did nothing to change that. Zexion would do what he had to do, and Demyx would be here for him no matter what. When Zexion needed help, Demyx would be here to give it. If he didn't want help, Demyx would still be here, waiting patiently for the conclusion, and hopefully one hell of a good explanation.

"I have an idea." Axel said joyfully, and Demyx raised an eyebrow at his perky tone. "Let's get away for the weekend. We'll go somewhere relaxing, with good food, nice company-"

"I don't know Ax, I don't really feel like going on some road trip with you right now." Demyx whined.

"Actually, that's not what I had in mind. I was thinking something a little simpler. Oh, and Roxas is coming with us."

"Roxas?" Demyx questioned, "Where exactly are we going?"

And this is how, not knowing what the future would hold, Demyx and Axel planned for the weekend, as Demyx tried desperately to forget, even for a moment, the misery he had seen in Zexion's eyes, and how that aching was mirrored in his own heart.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Zexion could never sleep in a car.

It wasn't just cars though. It was all moving vehicles. Trains, boats, gummi ships, anything that moved was immediately rendered a 'no-sleep' zone. He thought it might be because there were so few automobiles on Traverse, and that the feeling of being in a moving contraption heightened his senses so much that he physically couldn't fall asleep. Later he thought that it was because the things outside his window were constantly moving, changing, altering, and that his mind didn't want to miss anything. The colors, the buildings, the scenery, the people; he didn't want to look away, didn't want to close his eyes and fall asleep when he may see something astounding. In the end, he could never really pinpoint what it was that kept him awake. He just knew that if he was going to be travelling, he should prepare for a wonderful trip without one minute of shut-eye.

And that was why he was cursing himself now. Because as he sat on that accursed bus, rolling through the hills and valleys, he couldn't even _force_ himself to sleep. And sleep was the one thing he desperately wished he could do. In sleep he may be able to forget all the things he had done and said, all of the words he wished he hadn't uttered, all of the emotions he had seen race through Demyx's eyes. The pain, the betrayal, the anger, the fear, the misery; he had made Demyx feel those things, he had seen it on the blonde's face. Maybe if he could sleep, he could imagine that he was still back at the university, still sitting in his apartment, Demyx nearby with a bright smile on his face. They would be working on calculus, because Demyx was always confused in that class. He would be sitting close enough that Zexion would be able to feel the heat from the other man, close enough to have a nearly overwhelming urge to reach out and hold him. And maybe, in his dream, he would.

But now, that was truly just a dream. What he had seen in Demyx's eyes made him feel that any hope he may have of that dream coming true was long gone. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but he just couldn't think. Everything had happened so fast, he couldn't process it at the time. He had simply reacted on instinct, and it had nearly destroyed him with its consequences. After Demyx had left, he had nearly broken down again. But he had remained focused. There was something he needed to do. Once it was done, he would go see Demyx again. He would explain everything, and ask for the other's forgiveness. The rest was up to Demyx. But first, he had to accomplish the main goal. He needed to go through with his plan.

He needed to go see D.

So that was what he was doing. He was riding the bus to D's hometown, and from there he would walk to D's house, knock on D's door, and meet D face to face. Once that was done, he wasn't sure what would happen. But he knew that if he was ever going to accomplish anything in his life, he first needed to meet D. He couldn't describe it in words, but it was like D was clinging to him. As long as D remained in his life as an imaginary, almost omnipotent figure, Zexion was not going to be able to move forward. He needed to know that D was a real person, a real live being who was not everything Zexion had always imagined. Because really, how was any person going to live up to the standards and expectations that Zexion had set for D? In all aspects, D was perfect. And as long as this perfect person was looking over his shoulder, holding onto Zexion's mind and heart, Zexion would never accomplish anything. He needed to prove to himself that D wasn't real, wasn't perfect, and couldn't fill up that hole in his life. That hole of loneliness and need that Zexion had been using D to fill up since he was a child.

But now Zexion wasn't alone. He had friends, like Lexaeus and Axel, and he had Demyx. He didn't need D anymore, and the only way to prove that D wasn't real was to find the true D and see for himself that dreams aren't reality. So he looked up that address that was on that first letter. He bought a bus ticket, and on Saturday morning he had grabbed his bag and got onboard. Now he sat staring out the window, unable to sleep, dreading and dreaming of where he was going, and what would await him when he returned.

The few hours it had taken to reach the little town had begrudgingly passed by. When Zexion stepped off the bus he headed to the small diner across the street from the bus station. He was starving, and he figured it would be as good a place as any to ask for directions. As he stepped inside a little bell rang, and a woman behind a counter told him to take a seat wherever he pleased. He sat down at a small booth, his bag in the seat across from him, and waited only a few minutes before a kind looking woman in pink walked up and asked for his order. He ate his meal in silence, contemplating what he was going to say when he finally arrived at D's home. Before he knew it he was finished, and as the lady in pink gave him his check, he quickly caught her attention.

"You said your name was Aeirth, yes?"

"Mmhmm, that's right." She said with a smile.

"Aeirth, would you know how to get to this address" Zexion asked politely, and pulled out a piece of paper with D's address written on it.

"That depends. Let me take a look." She took the paper and read it over. "Friend of yours?" She asked absentmindedly.

"He's my pen pal." Zexion told her, which was t least partially true.

"Really? That's wonderful!" She exclaimed, looking up from the paper with a dreamy look in her eye. She smiled when she met Zexion's gaze, and put the paper down on the table, pulling out a pen. "I'll just write out some quick directions for you."

After paying and thanking Aeirth for her help, Zexion headed out of the diner and began to follow the neatly written directions. A right turn, cross the street, there's the statue she's mentioned, a left, cross another street…

As Zexion made his way through the town he wondered if D had walked these same roads, if he had stopped to sit on that bench, if maybe he had eaten at that very diner and had sit in the same booth Zexion had. This was D's town, and when he thought of it that way, it took on an almost magical quality to it. Things started to seem distant and untouchable, and he began to feel like he was intruding. It was like the things around him were placed there, as if the entire town was a giant dollhouse. The quaint house with the nicely cut green lawn, the courthouse with its tall columns, it seemed almost contrived, almost manufactured to fit the captivating world he had often thought of and created for D. He had to continue to remind himself that this was just a normal town like any other on this world. There was no magic spell on this place.

He made a final turn, and then he was there. It was D's street, and the feeling of intrusion was stronger than ever. The houses all looked much the same, some with cars in the driveway and some without. A couple walked in the opposite direction across the street. It all seemed so picturesque. He made his way down the street, his eyes scanning the numbers, and he finally stopped.

He stood and looked at the house. It was stone, two stories high, with a little white porch on the front. At the end of the driveway stood a red mailbox, and Zexion let his hand rest on top of it. This would have been where his letters arrived. D would have come to this mailbox, opened it up, reached inside, and pulled out his letters. Would he have brought them inside to read? Or would he have been too excited, and just torn the envelope's open right here? There was no way to ever know, because it never happened. Zexion was never able to fulfill D's request, never able to be the friend that D wanted.

Zexion let his hand slide from the mailbox, cold from the metal. He walked up the driveway and onto the porch. He stood at the door, and waited for a moment, staring and the wood grain. He still had no idea what he was going to say. He was a man of logic, he knew that better than anyone. He liked to be prepared, to have plans for any scenario that could be thrown his way. This was part of the reason he had failed so miserably with Demyx. Demyx had surprised him, caught him off guard. Because of this, he had stumbled with words, said things that had been brought up by emotions that Zexion hadn't fully understood. He had probably ruined everything between them. He didn't want that to happen now.

But how could it not happen? He knew nothing about D. He didn't know his personality, his likes or dislikes, his face. Hell, Zexion didn't even know his _name_. There was no way to prepare for this. So Zexion took a deep breath, and did the only thing he could do. He gingerly reached out and rang the doorbell.

Nothing happened for a moment, and he listened to the doorbell's echoes inside the house. And then he heard someone fiddling with the locks, and the door was opened. But it wasn't what he expected.

It was kind of ridiculous for Zexion to assume that D would open the door, especially since he had no idea who D was or what he looked like. It could have been that case that he simply wasn't home. In fact, D may not even live here anymore. Perhaps he had moved, or maybe even left this world. But he had expected it all the same. So when a young girl with blonde hair who could be no older than 7 opened the front door, Zexion was momentarily stunned.

"Can I help you?" The little girl asked, and Zexion managed to get a hold of himself and smile at child.

"Yes, my name is Zexion. I'm looking for someone who lives here whose name starts with a D." Zexion realized, as he spoke, how strange that sounded, and the little girl apparently thought so too, judging from the look on her face.

"Why?" She asked, holding onto the door like she may shut it at any second.

"I got a letter a long time ago. It was from someone whose name starts with a D, and they lived here. I'm trying to find them." He told her, and she just continued to stare at him like he was crazy.

"My big brother's name starts with a D." She told him, "But he's not here right now."

"Oh," Zexion mumbled, but inside he flared with hope. D still lived here, this was his sister, and he was _real_. He may not be in front of his eyes, but this was the closest that Zexion had ever come to D in his life. "Do you know where he is?"

"He's at his friend's house, over there." And the little girl stretched out her hand and pointed directly across the street. Zexion turned to look at the large brick house, and felt a twinge of fear. Should he come back later? But he was so close! D was in that house right across the street, and he would be damned if he turned back now.

"Thank you." He said to the little girl, and headed off the porch and across the street. He could hear her shut the door as he walked away, but he kept his eyes focused on the house in front of him. He was amazed at how identical the houses were, and standing in front of the large door, he summoned up his courage for a second time and rang the doorbell. He couldn't hesitate, or else he would never do this. But as he waited for the door to open, the echo of the doorbell faded, and no one answered. After a minute or two, Zexion reached out to push the button again when suddenly he heard the locks turn and the door was swung wide open.

The two men, one in the house and Zexion on the outside, stared at each other for a solid minute before Zexion opened his mouth.

"Axel?" He questioned, though it was quite obvious that the tall red haired man was indeed his friend Axel, "What are you doing here?" He asked, incredulous.

"Uhhh, I live here." He answered, sounding just as confused as Zexion. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"The little girl across the street said-"

"Who, Namine?"

"She didn't say her name. She just said the person I was looking for was here."

"You mean Demyx?"

"No, I….wait, Demyx is here?"

"Yeah, Roxas too. Why are you looking for Demyx?"

"I'm not looking for Demyx. I'm looking for the older brother of the little girl across the street."

"Demyx _is_ Namine's older brother. That's his house."

Zexion stood before Axel, complete perplexed. It didn't make any sense, but at the same time it made perfect sense. The house across the street was D's house. The house across the street was Demyx's house. It was so clear, so obvious. But as Zexion ran over and over the facts in his mind, none of it seemed to register, to make any sense at all. How could this be possible, how could this-

"Hey Ax! Where's the remote for the tv?" A voice called from around a corner in the house. It was Demyx's voice, and Zexion was suddenly scared witless. He still didn't understand, he still couldn't comprehend what he had just learned. Axel seemed to understand, if not Zexion's reason for being there, at least his confusion in the current situation.

"Are you alright, Zexion?" He asked, ignoring Demyx plea, "What's going on? Is this something to do with the fight you and Dem had?"

Zexion could only nod, the fear sinking into his chest and weighing him down. It felt the gravity had increased tenfold, the world was trying to pull him in and swallow him. And just as Axel seemed to be about to ask him something, a figure rounded the corner.

"You know Ax, if you don't wanna answer you can…Zexion?" Demyx's eyes grew wide as he took in Zexion's figure, "What are you doing here?"

And it suddenly clicked. Everything just fell into place in Zexion's mind. Zexion couldn't answer, but his mind wasn't racing as it usually did in these situations. He wasn't thinking at all, his mind had shut down against his own volition. He could think of nothing, nothing except what had suddenly become clear to him. Nothing but the swiftly delivered truth that had knocked the air from his lungs.

D stood before him.

Demyx stood before him.

And this is how Zexion finally found D, the perfect childhood friend and confidant, the perfect inspiration, the perfect unattainable goal. This is how he found Demyx, the man he loved and whose heart he believed he had broken. This is how Zexion discovered that these two, D and Demyx, were one in the same.

* * *

GASP! Where can our lovely protagonists go from here?

I hope everyone is still interested in this story after my slightly long break from updating (what? it was only about 2 or 3 weeks!). As always please please review with your thoughts and constructive criticism if you have any! Your beautiful reviews inspire me to write, and when I read them it helps motivate me to actually work on the story instead of, you know, other stuff. Like watching pointless youtube videos, finding shapes in clouds, watching paint dry...


	4. To D, To Demyx

Well...this is awkward...

I guess I should start with I'm sorry. I'm sorry this is about 2 or 3 months overdue. I started writing this story over winter break when I had lots of free time, and then I came back to school, started a new semester, and promptly got my ass kicked by my courses. Engineering classes are not kind to one's social and free time schedules. So I apologize for being really, incredibly late.

Other than that, this is the last chapter, and I hope you like it. Its a bit shorter than the other chapters, only because I didn't want to be adding unnecessary fluff at the end, I thought it was enough as is. If you can put aside you anger at my tardiness, please enjoy.

* * *

Zexion looked like he had just been slapped across the face.

At least, that was the only thing that Demyx could think of when he saw Zexion's face. Not the strangeness of the situation, not the random encounter of Zexion outside of the house, not the way the three of them were standing at Axel's front door just staring at each other; no, all Demyx could think of was the completely bewildered and utterly confused look on Zexion's face.

What was he _doing _here?

That had pretty much been Demyx's exact question to him, but the other man just stood there staring at him like he had grown a second head. He looked so perplexed, but at the same time he looked lost. Demyx had only ever seen Zexion as cool and composed, Zexion always thought before he spoke or acted. At least, he had until a night ago when Demyx walked in on his mental breakdown. But now was different. This wasn't composed Zexion. This wasn't emotionally train-wrecked Zexion. This was like a sad-puppy Zexion, who just seem purely confused. Demyx had received no response to his initial query yet, either.

"Did Axel invite you over?" Demyx asked, turning to his tall, lanky friend. He intended to glare at Axel, because if the answer to that question was anything near 'yes', someone was getting punched, and that someone was Axel. But when he saw Axel's bewildered face and awkward shrug and head shake, he knew that everyone in this situation was very _very_ unsure of how they had ended up where they were right now.

"You…" Zexion started, but then trailed off.

"You what?" Demyx asked, eyeing him nervously. He had no idea why Zexion was here, and now that he was thinking about it, how had Zexion known where he lived? He never gave him his address, as so far as Demyx remembered. "How did you get here?" he asked.

"A bus…" Zexion said, "I came to see…" He trailed off again, then brought his hands up and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," he said, his voice muffled slightly by his hands, "I'll just…I'll just…" But he trailed off again, backing away from the door, finally turning away. The two men stood in the doorway and watched him walk across the street and sit down on the curb beneath Demyx's mailbox, resting his head on his knees. Axel and Demyx turned almost simultaneously to look at each other with nearly identical gazes of pure disbelief.

"Maybe you should go talk to him." Axel said, but Demyx just looked at him with a gaze that said something akin to 'You must be nuts'. "Look, dude, I know you're angry or upset with him or whatever, but I'm almost one hundred and ten percent positive he had _no_ idea whatsoever that you were here. I don't think he came looking for you, all he said when he showed up was that he was looking for whoever lived across the street." He turned back to look at Zexion, "I don't think he knew it was you, I think he was expecting to see someone else."

Demyx turned back too, looking at the scene across the street sadly. Axel was right, Demyx was still upset with Zexion, but Zexion sure as hell seemed surprised to see Demyx. He sighed, and walked out the door. He heard Roxas behind him asking what was going on, but Axel's reply was muffled by the closing door.

Demyx made his way across the pavement, footsteps making dull thuds in a natural rhythm. He stopped in front of Zexion, but when the other did not lift up his gaze Demyx sat down beside the still figure. Still Zexion would not look up, but his shoulders rose and fell with deep breathes.

"Zexion?" Demyx prodded, unsure of how to start. He was mad. He was concerned. He was confused. He was hurting and didn't know why. There were so many questions that he had no idea where to begin, but thankfully Zexion picked up his head. He didn't look at Zexion, instead staring blankly across the street. When he spoke, Demyx was surprised by how level his voice was.

"When you were a child, you travelled to this world on a Gummi Ship." He said, calm and collected. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, I did. What's that have to do with anything?" He asked, even more puzzled. But Zexion turned to him, a strange smile on his face, a sad smile.

"That's the beginning of the story."

"What story?"

"The story of how I ended up on Axel's porch today."

"Huh?"

Zexion laughed then. It was breathy, empty. His smile became less sad, though. "Just let me tell you, I promise it will explain everything." Demyx simply nodded, interest peaked.

"When you were a child you travelled to this world on a Gummi Ship. But you were scared because you didn't know anything about this world; you didn't know anyone on it. So you wrote a letter, and you put it in a bottle. And then you let that bottle fly out into space, hoping that someone would find it and be your new friend. Do you remember?"

Demyx thought for a moment, "I don't know. That sounds like me so it sounds like it could be true but…" He thought harder, eyebrows creased in concentration, before a sudden epiphany hit him, "I do remember! I was sitting here waiting for a return letter when I met Axel! But how did you-?"

But Zexion was already handing him a folded up piece of paper. It was brown with age, and when Demyx opened it the words were barely legible. But he could vaguely make out the words, the strangely familiar words in a strangely familiar handwriting. It was like remembering a dream, everything hazy and pieces missing. But the more he thought, the more he remembered. The ship, the stars outside the window, waiting for the mailman, sitting on the curb, believing that his friend hated him; it all slowly filtered its way into his memory.

"But how…?" He started, turning up to see Zexion's sad smile once again.

"I'm sorry that I'm such a bad pen-pal." He said with a halfhearted shrug, and Demyx could only stare, shocked as the truth set in. Zexion looked down to the pavement and continued. "When I first got your letter I was about nine or ten years old. My world is dying, you know that. Back then I never thought that I was going to amount to anything. Not because I thought badly of myself, but simply because there was nothing on my world to strive for, nothing to try to amount _to_. But then," He smiled, a pure radiant smile, "I got a letter from a boy on another world. And he made me remember that, even if there was nothing left on my world, there were other worlds out there. Places where people didn't survive, they _lived_. He made me strive to reach those places."

"Zexion, I…I don't know…" Demyx tried to formulate his thoughts, but Zexion kept speaking as Demyx desperately tried to put words together.

"Your name was smudged off, I didn't know who you were. I just called you D." Here he paused a moment, looking thoughtful. "I'm sorry I lied to you. When you came to me and I was…upset…you asked if you were D, and I said no. I was unaware, I thought that you couldn't possibly…" He paused again, chuckled. "Anyway, I called you D, and I wrote you letters: replies to your first correspondence. But I could never send them, we didn't have the means. So I kept them, and I kept this image I had of D in my mind and in my heart. I loved D, more than I had loved anyone, because he was the only person who had ever given me hope."

"And then I got off of Traverse. I travelled, and all the while I kept writing to D. My goal was to learn, to experience, but my real reason that I had a hard time even admitting to myself was that I wanted to find D. To see if he was everything I had made him out to be. But then I got to this world, this beautiful world that I knew D lived on, and I couldn't muster up the courage to come see him."

Here he finally quieted, looking contemplative. Demyx was awestruck, he couldn't seem to think strait. "Why didn't you?" He asked finally, "Why couldn't you come here before?"

"Because, at first, I was scared. I was afraid D wasn't going to be who I thought he would. D was…he was like an imaginary friend, one who can't do anything wrong. I had built him up as this image of perfection. No real person is like that." Demyx nodded, understanding, but then the truth prodded at the back of his mind. _He_ was D, and he felt a sudden surge of panic at the thought. He wasn't perfect by a long shot, he wasn't what Zexion had wanted at all. That's why Zexion was so upset, why he had reacted this way. Zexion was disappointed with him, and would never love him know that he knew that Demyx was actually D. He felt tears start to well up behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, "I'm sorry that I'm not what you had wanted."

But Zexion turned immediately, hands flying out to grab Demyx's, clutching them tightly. "No!" He nearly shouted, "No, it's not like that at all! You're wonderful Demyx! You're beautiful and smart and witty and wonderful and…!" He seemed to struggle a moment, eyes pleading with Demyx to understand, "Please, Demyx, please. That's just what I thought at first, but then I realized I was avoiding D for another reason. It was because you were in my life. You had given me everything D had given me: hope, friendship, a reason to keep living. But you were real, you were in my reach, you gave me those things without me having to ask, without me having to imagine you as someone different. You were that perfect person that I had wanted from the beginning, but you were _real_, you weren't some lovely figure of my imagination."

Zexion's face looked scared, afraid that Demyx would hear, wouldn't understand. His hands clutched Demyx's almost painfully, "And I didn't want to face D knowing that I couldn't love him the way I always thought I had. And if my love for D had been a farce I didn't know what the rest of my life, everything I had done, what any of it meant!" His words were rushed, but so filled with emotional passion that Demyx was unsurprised to see tears welling in Zexion's eyes. He felt them in his own as well.

It was a strange sensation, to be two consciousnesses. Here he was Demyx, hearing about Zexion's love for this other person, hearing Zexion's confession of love for Demyx, the conflicting jealously and pure joy. Yet here he was D, proud of Zexion for what he had done, proud of the things he was able give to Zexion through only one letter. But at the same time he was crushed that love had been torn away from him. But it hadn't been torn away at all, he was still Demyx. Even though he now knew what Zexion had been feeling and doing, he still felt confused. It was his heart that was now unable to understand, not his mind.

"That's why I found you in your apartment like that…" Demyx realized out loud, and Zexion nodded, so Demyx continued. "So you decided to come here to meet D, to sort things out."

"I had thought that if I finally met D it would show me that he wasn't perfect, that he wasn't what I wanted. That he wasn't _you_, someone I saw as perfect even though I knew they weren't." Then Zexion laughed, a beautiful relieved laugh, like all the weight he had carried with him through the years were falling away. "But here you are. You are D. And you are perfect, you're everything I ever wanted you to be, and I don't know whether to be happy or not."

"Why not?" Demyx asked.

"Because I love you. I love you so completely and utterly that it scares me." Zexion said, face serious but sincere, hands still tightly entwined with Demyx's. His eyes were so wide, his expression so exposed and unguarded, so hopeful. Demyx felt his mind go blank, felt his heart start beating frantically in his chest. He didn't know what to say, what to do, how to tell Zexion how _overjoyed _it made him to hear those words. How scared it made him as well, to know that, sitting here on this curb outside of his home, he was completely devoted to the man sitting beside him. He would do anything, go anywhere, as long as it meant he could hear Zexion say those words again, and that he could say them in return. So, since his mind was doing little in the way of forming coherent sentence, his body did the next best thing.

He pulled Zexion close, brought their lips together, and then kissed him for all he was worth.

And this is how, next to the red mailbox, Demyx finally found his new friend and true love.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

You know me, but I've known you much longer. I've told you every secret of mine, every wish, and every fear. You've been there for me most of my life, sometimes just in my mind, sometimes by my side. And now I'm here for you. Tell me your dreams and worries, because I love you, and I'm here to listen. And I'll never leave if you don't want me to.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

_Dear Zexion,_

_I'm sorry that I'm still shit at writing these letters. I haven't even started getting to the important parts yet and I can already tell its going to be bad. Without you here to proofread my essays every time I put a pen to paper, I'm getting to be a horrible writer._

_Nothing much is happening here. Axel and Roxas are doing well, so well in fact that I think I'm going to have to find a new roommate next semester. Personally, I think the idea of the two of them living together is scary as hell (not to mention annoying for the neighbors). Also, Axel is yelling at me right now, telling me to write down that you need to come back soon because 'I can't stand Demyx anymore, I'm going to sell him online soon. Come back and screw him already' (his words, not mine, though I don't disagree)._

_Other than that, I'm doing fine. Classes are going well, despite my favorite tutor moving off-world to study at some other university. Maybe if you stopped being such an overachiever and picked an easier major you wouldn't have to keep changing your address every few months. But you know that I'm proud of you, regardless. I know you're doing well, and I know how hard you work. I'm afraid without me there to constantly annoy you that you're not taking any time off for yourself. Relax a bit, for me okay?_

_See, I told you this letter would suck. Sorry I'm a failure as a long distance boyfriend. Graduate soon and come back. I love you. _

_Demyx_

_P.S. Roxas just smacked Axel upside the head. Thought you should know._

Zexion placed the letter down on his desk. He couldn't stop smiling. Every time he received a letter from Demyx, it felt like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. He eventually had to leave Demyx's university, as per his major's requirements, but only after a few blissful months at Demyx's side. Although he had been hesitant to go, Demyx had demanded finally that Zexion continue on with his studies, arguing that Zexion had already made it so far, accomplished so much, and he wouldn't let him waste it. Besides, there was always graduate school, he would add with a smile.

And Zexion had been amazed to find a letter waiting for him the first week of his new term. Demyx had apparently decided that phone calls and video chatting wasn't enough, and wanted to make up for all the years that Zexion had been writing to him and had never received a letter in return. Zexion had, of course, given Demyx all of the letters he had written him over his lifetime. Demyx had read every single one. It had taken him a day or two, but when he had finished he had shown up at Zexion's apartment sobbing and stuttering blubbery apologies through the tears. At first Zexion hadn't been able to understand a word he was saying, but finally he figured out what the blond man was trying to convey. He had simply sat with him, entwined in his arms, assuring him that his apologies weren't needed, he had done absolutely nothing.

So now they kept up written correspondence, and every time Zexion got a letter he nearly melted with happiness. He was finally getting his letters from D, from Demyx, and they were more wonderful than he ever imagined. He didn't care if Demyx's letters were silly or about nothing in particular. Just the fact that he could read the words on the page made him overjoyed.

So he leaned across his desk and picked up a blank piece of paper and a pen, and he began to write.

_Dear Demyx,_

_You really need to stop thinking that your letters are rubbish. I love receiving them, you know that. You make me happier than I've ever been before in my life. The only way for me to be any more content would be for you to be here with me._

_I need to tell you about a Professor of mine, Vexen is his name. His he's allowing me to sit in on some of his upper level classes. It's been amazing to finally…_

And he continued on, writing down all of his thoughts, the events of his days, his feelings, all for Demyx to read and to know. And he was content, knowing that Demyx would indeed read them.

And this is how Zexion and Demyx, pen-pals, friends, and lovers, finally opened their mailboxes and found letters from one another. And each was wonderfully, blissfully, eternally happy.

_Fin_

* * *

Hooray! Thank you all so much for reading, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it! If you feel so inclined, feel free to leave a review to let me know what you thought of the ending or the story in general_._ Much love to everyone who has reviewed so far, you have all been my reason to continue onwards, even though I have had to stay up into the wee hours of the morning to complete this. I've had a great time writing this story, I hope you had a great time reading!_  
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